Page 17 of Trapped

Pleasure crested, and then he added a finger. My breathing hitched as he plunged in and out, working me into a frenzy. His eyes never left mine, the intensity in them making my head spin.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

I couldn’t form words.

Santino’s finger worked magic inside me, and I felt an orgasm building. His thumb stayed on my clit, rubbing in slow circles that made me arch off the bed. “That’s right,” he growled, adding another finger and increasing the pace. “Come for me.”

My world shattered as I came, my body shaking.

His touch disappeared as I squirmed on the bed.

Santino unbuckled his slacks and shucked off his clothes. He was such a man. Curly hair dusted his built chest and trailed down a sculpted abdomen. My gaze darted to his thick cock, fully erect and veiny, just as perfect as the rest of him.

This is happening.

A dark thrill ran through me that felt too much like excitement. I’d spent at least a decade listening to my dad complain about Italians. How they were dirty, lying, cheating thugs, and now I was about to sleep with one. If my father ever found out, he’d strangle me in my sleep.

The bed dipped as Santino climbed on.

He urged me onto my hands and knees so that I faced the headboard.

I breathed in sharply. “I’m not on birth control.”

He shushed me and kissed the nape of my neck. The room was charged with a dangerous energy as he positioned himself behind me. His hands roamed over my back and down to my hips, pulling me closer to him.

I swallowed hard.

I felt him sliding on my slick pussy. He entered me, stretching me inch by inch.Oh my God. It was overwhelming, like he was splitting me apart. Was that his cock or a baseball bat? I gritted my teeth against the ache and winced as he seated himself completely. Santino stayed buried inside me, his fingers digginginto my hips. He stroked my curves, giving me a few moments to adjust.

Then he moved. He was so big that his slow rhythm had me gasping. His hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me in place. His thrusts were powerful, like ocean waves battering rocks.

Over andover.

My eyes watered as pain rushed over me, ratcheting my pleasure higher. His cock dove in and out of me—no condom. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop this. Every stroke bound me tighter to him, stoking flames that would consume us both.

SIX

DELILAH

My alarm clock this morning was Santino’s face, shoved between my thighs. His tongue soothed the ache from being railed all night. He played with me until I gave up and whimpered for more. Then he flipped me on my knees. On my back. Over the desk.

Everywhere.

Santino had sex like he’d lost his mind and could find it inside me. He was feral. I’d never seen a man so determined to make me come. Not just once. Countless times.

At some point, Santino ordered room service. We ate breakfast. He poured me coffee and asked how I liked it—two sugars, lots of milk. After breakfast, I realized that I didn’t have any clothes and would have to do the walk of shame in a wedding dress. Until Santino grabbed a set of women’s size medium leggings, a shirt, and sandals from his suitcase. He’d figured I wouldn’t have anything on me, an alarmingly thoughtful gesture.

Santino didn’t say much the whole morning, but he laughed when I dropped Dimitri’s engagement ring into a homelessperson’s cup on the way to his car. He opened the door for me, like a gentleman. When he got into the car, he stared at me and barked one word.

“Seatbelt.”

I put on the damned seatbelt, still feeling like I was floating in a strange dream. This gentlemanly side of him confused me. I spent the drive to my new place obsessively analyzing him. I’d expected rough, impersonal sex with Santino, but a business transaction wrapped in heat wasnothow it felt.

My fingers dug into the seat, the ache between my legs still throbbing. The way he’d touched me still warmed my skin. How my pussy clenched when he’d whispered filthy things like:swallow my cum, principessa. Even as he lined up his cock to fuck me, I never felt like I was being used for his pleasure. I’d enjoyed myself too much.

What was wrong with me?

I glanced at Santino. He stared ahead, eyes on the road. He looked bright-eyed and ready for the day, and not like he’d spent the last six hours screwing me. Was this not a big deal for him?